


Gone

by Audiomedic



Category: overwatch
Genre: Angst, Bunnyribbit doesn't deserve this, D.Va is dead, Depression, F/M, Loss of loved ones, Mondatta is dead, coming to terms, everyone is sad, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:36:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audiomedic/pseuds/Audiomedic
Summary: She's... Gone.And there was nothing anyone could do about it.His light. His muse.Gone.





	1. Gone

From behind his studio door, a slew of sad songs continually pressed outward. With the base already dreary, the pressence of them made the moral even worse. He'd tried working on something, _anything_ , but nothing would come to mind. The music in his mind shut off, all because of one glaring fact, a fact he thought he'd never had to come to face. She was gone. Hana wasn't here anymore. It had happened so suddenly, and the spunky girl he'd come to love had been snuffed out of the world like a fire caught in water. She'd taken a bullet trying to protect him... And now all he could do was wish he could've taken her place

 

He felt numb. He felt pathetic. She'd given him so much in life, and he couldn't even give her tears over her death. He wanted to, with all his heart and soul to let the tears roll, let the grief splash across his face over losing the one he held highest in the world... But none would come. His heart was shattered in half. He was feeling the worst pain he'd ever experienced, and yet, he couldn't cry. He felt utterly pathetic.

 

Looking for something, _anything_  to take his mind off the pain he was experiencing, he scanned his room, coming up with only memories. All the hours they had spent together in here... Talking, laughing, genuinely enjoying each other's presence... It was a pain almost too much to bare. Knowing that he'd never have that familiar weight in his arms made him sick to his stomach. She'd never be there to comfort him when he was down, or smirk that smug, yet adorable smirk after a mission, and reassure him that she had had everything under control... Because now, nothing has any control of it.

 

He hardly ate or slept anymore. He only ate because he remembered growing up in poverty, and having only one meal per day. He thought it might be an insult to God that he was refusing the offerings he had now. From the few instances where he did venture outside the walls of his studio, he caught on to the fact that he wasn't the only one consumed by grief. He'd caught glimpses of Jack, and the man seemed even more worse of than usual. His Hana was gone. His little Hana, whom he'd taken a great liking to. Almost like a father... And like any good father, he had dreams for her. Dreams for her to become even better than she had before. Those dreams were gone now... And so was a significant part of his heart.

 

Scanning the room, Lúcio's eyes stopped on a framed photo he had taken after the first couple days of them knowing each other. Her eyes twinkled like stars, the happiness in them knowing absolutely no bounds. The sight of that made his heart twist painfully. The knowledge that he'd never see them again had yet to fully sink in.

 

His eyes remained glued to hers for a moment longer, before he couldn't take it anymore. Those sparkling brown irises had no ill-meaning when the picture was taken, but seeing them now made him feel something else. Guilt. Why hadn't he been able to save her? He was right along side her. She'd taken a bullet straight to the chest before his eyes. With his limited knowledge in healthcare, he wasn't able to stop the bleeding, the bullet penetrating straight through her heart of gold. Taking the photo with a trembling hand, he turned it downwards.

 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the his studio door. A louder, yet still tender knock that met his ears sharply. Taking a small look backwards, the torn-up musician called out. His voice sounded different. Void of all happiness and life that it usually had. To the untrained ear, it may sound that he had a bad cold...

 

"... Come in..."


	2. Discordant

Disquiet seemed to be the new theme to the Overwatch party. There was a gaping hole in the fabric of their tightly-knit family, one that couldn't ever be filled again. The hole of a life taken too soon. With her gone from the picture, the whole thing hardly seemed worth looking at. 

Discord. Discomfort. Disquiet. He sensed them everywhere. He felt them within his own soul. Zennyatta hadn't felt discorse like this sense the death of Mondatta. Hana... Hana was too young to suffer the fate she had. The Korean seemed to bring a spark with her, wherever she went, lighting it off in any room she enter. And now, the spark was gone. Spunk and life replaced by grief and sorrow.

And there was no where he could feel this more than on the outside of the young musician's door.

Zenyatta was worried for his comrade. He would often times be seen about he hall, grinning from ear to ear, making conversation with anyone and everyone within earshot. And now, he hardly appeared. Scarcely would he arrive to the mess hall durring supper... And on those few occasions in which he had made himself known, he would quickly scurry away, grabbing the bare minimum to be considered a meal. From what he could see, Lúcio wasn't taking the best care of himself.

With his own disquieted rampant in his own soul, he walked upon the ground. Without the pureness of spirit, he was unable to hover as he would have usually. The metallic clacks upon the floor echoed down the hallway, as the omnic pressed onwards, stopping only as he reached the designated door.

He knew the feelings that must be plaguing him. He'd been through much the same pain. Mondatta's death was something the monk felt as though was impossible to get over. The anger... Grief... Confusion... He knew it all to well. Painfully well. He'd lived through it. The pain of losing one you care for deeply would never fully heal, but it would dull over time. And he wished to teach him this important lesson.

His knock was met after a moment of silence. A voice much too void of happiness to belong to Lúcio reached his receptors. It was watered down, almost to the point in drowning out the male speaking. Never had there been a day in which he didn't have a smile plastered upon his face, a song in his heart, or a cheerful wind to his soul. And now, the keeper of all three of those things had up and left, leaving him behind to deal with the shatters that now defined him.

Slowly, Zenyatta entered the room, as if there were angry dogs ready to pounce him at at any moment. He wished not to startle Lúcio... Rather, to be the comforting hand in which would help pick up the broken pieces of his soul. Though, he did not know how well he could, the sorrows within him being almost too much to handle himself.

A moment of silence over took the two, the only noises being that of Lúcio breathing, and his own mechanical buzzing. 

"... Lúcio, my friend..." He began, tone light. A gentle, mechanical appendage came forth to rest upon the other's shoulder. "... There is much discord within you..."


	3. D.Va Offline

A long pause soon overcame the two younger members of the 'Watch. Even with the threat of tears gone from him, speaking his mind did not get any easier. If anything, without he tears to lubricate his grief, he was stuck. Stuck in a place of self-pity, and selfishness. Why couldn't he cry? Why? He'd wept for his homeland. Nearly came to tears when he'd seen the mass of fans at his first ever concert. And now that she was gone from him? He couldn't even remember what it felt like to cry.

 

With a shaking intake of breath, Lúcio finally broke the quiet. "I... I failed her..." He murmured in a hushed tone, the lump blocking his windpipe opening for the moment. "... When I had found her, out of her mech, I'd promised... I  _swore_ that I'd get her out of there... And... I failed her..."

 

The moment came back to him. The moment that had changed so many lives. As the raging battle whipped around them, the two idols remained on top of their game. Compliments where thrown to the other, as wave after wave of baddies had fallen to the forces of the Overwatch. As the battle neared it's end, an ambush overtook the crew, splitting them apart. It had worked perfectly. Hana's mech lie in shambles. Without the pink tank to guard the girl beneath it, she would be an easy pick.

 

And to top it all off, Lúcio was the only one around to protect her.

 

They fought. They fought with all their hearts and souls, the best intrest of the other propelling their actions forward. That interest leading to the downfall of a legend.

 

It had all been over so quickly. A wet sound of impact, followed by the sound of the Korean's breath being sucked from her. She fell. Fell down to the dark, damp earth that they had been fighting so hard to defend, blue pilot suit soon being painted over with a fresh coat of red.

 

Everything else melted away from him, in that moment. Before he knew it, he was at her side, knees digging into the softened dirt. The dirt, now rich in blood, as her chest continued to seep. Her eyes... Oh God, her eyes. The eyes that looked up at him, posing only one question. 'Am I going to make it'? Those eyes... They were not the eyes of the one he knew. The eyes that sparkles like the morning sunshine, whenever she was excited. The ones that looked at him with the most tender kind of love imaginable. The ones that hid turmoil behind them, and remained jolivant. No... Those were the eyes of someone who knew their fate.

 

He'd tried his best, but the healing music didn't do enough. The bullet was too deep, the rhythm not deep enough. He'd yelled himself horse, calling out for the medic that never did come. The savior who could have stopped the candle of light within her from blowing out.

 

In her final moments in this Earthly realm, he'd held her close. Pressure was applied to her now fatal wound, in a fruitless attempt to cease the blood which continued to spurt. Her heart began ticking slower and slower, while he prayed to any God who would listen to keep her here with him. Keep her on Earth. He'd take her spot, just don't take her...

 

Those prayers went unanswered.

 

Her breathing slowly decreased. The color in those eyes he adored so much began to fade. He was losing her. She was leaving him... And worst of all? All he could do was watch. No help was coming. He could do nothing to fix the situation. He couldn't even cry. All he could do is watch.

 

Her eyes fluttered to a close, painful tears flowing from her as she could resist no longer. She was losing the fight, Lúcio's sweet nothings and prayers doing nothing to preserve her life. The one life that seemed to make his worth living. She was losing. And Hana never lost.

 

Her voice shook, as she struggled to voice her last words to him. It was a painful shake to the usually upbeat, happy tone she spoke to. A sharp, morbid contrast. "O-Oppa?..." She weakly got out.

 

"I'm here for you, _coelho_... Don't go..." He begged softly.

 

"I-I... I love you..."

 

And with those solemn words spoken, Hana Song had breathed her last.


	4. Personal Hells

Another moment of silence passed between the two, as Zenyatta let those words sink in. Much of the same feelings he had had when his brother had passed were now present within the DJ. It almost felt as if the monk were looking into his past, in the form of the Brazilian freedom fighter before him. His heart and soul ached. Lúcio was by far the most torn apart on base, and for good reason. He'd made himself his own personal hell. The studio in which he'd hope would prove comfort only brought back memories of the past which could never be relived, and questions for the future they could have had that never would be. Everywhere he looked, he'd be reminded of her. While looking for comfort, he would only find painful memories of the happy days they'd spend together.

 

It was Mandotta all over again.

 

When his brother had been assassinated, Zenyatta had spent his days within the sacristy in which the monks of Nepal had dwelled. Perhaps a mistake on his part, but it seemed right at the time. He wished to remember all of the happy memories he'd shared with the other Omnic. How he'd been enlightened by the Iris to live such a way, because of his brother's guiding hand. In the days after, however, the Iris seemed to depart. His prayers and offerings towards the mystic would go unanswered, leaving himself alone to deal with the sorrows.

 

And alone he did deal with it.

 

It might have been the single biggest mistake he had ever made. Instead of seeking solace with his fellow monks, he'd left himself to his own devices. He'd push himself away from his brothers, wishing to morn the death of their leader in solitude. He, however, wasn't the only one grieving. Everyone around him was hurt as well. Together, they mourned. Together, they meditated his death. Together, they grew stronger as a tribe.

 

Alone, he had no one to turn to but the memories he had shared with his loved one. And they seemed too painful to bear. He wished that kind of pain onto no one, especially not him.

 

"Lúcio..." The zen monk began, metallic voice soft and caring. His hand had never left his shoulder, and he never wished it to. "You did not fail anyone, and you certainly did not fail Hana. That day... That most disastorus day... The cruel hand of fate reached out for her. Gently, it took her by the hand, and floated her off, into the great beyond. The Iris embraces all of its children. I wish for you to understand, that she is in a better place now."

 

Lúcio listened to his words as well as he could. Zenyatta had come to assist in easing the pain which rested so heavily within his heart. He took only a second, before his response made itself known. "But I'm not. Without her, I feel so... empty. She's gone for good... She's gone for good... Even thinkin' that hurts me. She's not off at a tournament halfway across the globe. She's not off on tour. She's... She's gone. She's never coming back... And nothing I do will change that..."

 

A small, sympathetic sigh came from the monk. "Although you cannot see her physically does not mean she is no longer with you... She will never leave you. I... experienced a very similar experience when my brother, Takhartha Mondatta, passed. You cannot see her... but I'm certain that you can feel her. Sense her..."

 

"...Y-Yeah..." He muttered softly, eyes once again resting upon the turned-down photograph. He had sensed her. Be it a whisper in the wind that reminded him of her sweet voice, the scent of bubblegum that came seemingly out of nowhere, or the sudden gust of heat that would come over him, he knew she was there. He wished she could be there physically again. A week, a day, even a minute would do. Just so that he could feel her against him again, or hear that sweet giggle... Tell her that he loved her just one more time... He'd give anything. His career, his youth, even his own life just to have another minute with her.

 

But no matter how hard he bargained, she was in God's teritory now. And he doesn't accept deals.

 

Zenyatta took notice of how he focused the frame in particular. Slowly, the monk picked it up, the faces of the two idols bright as ever. The memories this alone brought back... He understood why it had been turned downwards.

 

Setting it back up, he spoke once more to the grieving young male. "Have... Have you eaten anything recently, my friend?"

 

"Nothing... Nothing much. I had a few things here and there... But nothin'--"

 

The Omnic held a hand out, silently signaling him to stop speaking. "You must come with me, then... You... You need to eat, Lúcio." He begged softly.

 

"It's what she would've wanted."


	5. False Hope

The long walk to the mess hall didn't feel like it was a reality. He was above them, looking down upon himself and the monk. This wasn't his reality... All of this was some kind of dream. Or a prank. She was off at some event that he didn't know about. In two, three days tops she'd be back with him. All the dread and pain that inhabited his soul would vanish, just like that. The terrible feeling of depression that had settled over his happy-go-lucky nature would be lifted like a brick. Hana was alright somewhere. What he'd seen and felt was all just an illusion that his mind was playing on him. She'd... She'd be back. He'd wait, no matter how long she took.

 

The more he told himself these things, the more he began to believe them.

 

The two walked on in silence, the sounds of their footsteps being the only sound which broke the now-eerie silence that plagued the base. He hated it. Ever since he'd been a little  _criança_ in his home city of Rio, he had had a strong disliking for silence. Nothing good ever came from it, and he was just reaffirmed in this belief now.

 

As the duo walked by Commander Morrison's office, Lúcio couldn't help but notice that the door had been left ajar. Inside, Jack held his head in his hands, visor off and to the side. Angela's caring hand rested upon his back, trying to sooth the grieving soldier, while fighting back tears of her own. By the glance he got, she was losing both battles.

 

It wasn't long, before the two of them were in the cafeteria. Zenyatta held the tray. Being the way that he was, Lúcio couldn't even have hold his arms still, let alone hold a tray full of food within them. The workers on base were kind, offering him extra of his favorite foods, and their own platitudes of grief. It all sounded like white noise. The Shambali monk lead onwards, every table empty.

 

"... Here seems like a good spot, does it not, Lúcio?" "Yeah... It... It'll work..." Taking his seat, he simply stared at the food soon set out before him. Back during his childhood, he would've killed to have a meal like this. Even on special days like Christmas and Easter, they didn't have this much food. All those nights spent hungry... He wasn't attracted to the food at all. He hated himself to admit it, but he wasn't. He was practically starving to death, and he couldn't bring himself to eat the food out before him.

 

Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.

 

"Lúcio... Please." The monk begged softly. "It is important for you to eat..." His metallic voice came as more of a concerned murmur than anything. Whist the Omnic had no need for food, he understood the importance of it to humans. If Lúcio kept starving himself, his muscle mass would fade away, leaving the lean young male a shell of his former self. "Please?"

 

The begging tone in Zenyatta's voice pushed him over the edge. With great reluctance, he began to eat. He ate slowly, even the food seeming to taste different without her. Without her, there was no consistance within his life. Without her, nothing seemed right, and it never would be again. She was gone. The three bites Lúcio took of the food had a good side to them. Not enough to fill someone up, but enough to taste for a while afterwards. Zenyatta let out a small sigh of air, before looking towards him once more. "They... They will be cleaning out her room tomorrow afternoon..." He informed the other softly, hand carefully caressing his shoulder once more. "Maybe there you can find some peace of mind."

 

Lúcio froze, as the monk spoke to him. Any of that remaining hope-- the foolish hope-- was extinguished with those simple proclamations. Shakily, he replaced the utensils on the table.

 

"Yeah... yeah... Peace of mind..."

 

For the first time since he'd left Brazil, he was unable to finish a meal.


	6. Empty Hallways

Against Zenyatta's will, Lúcio left the table. He couldn't. No matter how much anyone wanted him to, he couldn't finish the food before him. A new feeling mixed itself with the dread, self-hate, and grief.

 

Selfishness.

 

He'd always eat his entire meal, no matter how full he was, or how bad it tasted, because he knew what it felt like to be truly hungry. What it felt like to be on the brink of starvation. Lúcio had come from very humble beginnings, and wished to keep that part of him very much alive. Leaving the plate unclean felt like a sin... but he couldn't. It was impossible.

 

Shakily, he began down the hallway once more, Zenyatta at his flank. The monk's footsteps echoed down the hallway, his soul still much to discordant to float along carelessly as he would usually. For quite a while, they went on in silence, the only sounds being that of their feet, and the low, metallic buzzing Zenyatta emitted. The lively base seemed to be completely barren; darker. Void of the life that had once inhabited out. Everyone was grieving in their own way. Even those who claimed not to give a damn about her were silent. No voices. No laughter. Only one set of feet, rapidly approaching the duo.

 

Jack Morrison rounded the corner, the visor which would normally be placed over his face nowhere to be seen. In its place were a pair of stony blue eyes, which held heavy grief. Grief for the life that would never be, now. Jack wasn't one to grow close to people easily, but the Korean had wedged herself under his skin in the best ways possible. It felt as though she had been his own kid. Even if he hadn't been there for her whole life, it felt like she'd been there for his. In the brief time they had been together, she'd managed to break down the barrier of Soldier: 76, bringing Jack Morrison back from the dead. The caring man he had once been single handedly brought back by Hana.

 

It was hard not to love someone who called you dad. Even if it had started off as a joke, it had soon evolved into something much more. Whenever she had a problem, he'd be the first one she'd come to. The young soldier coming to the old soldier for this and that, advice on how to make herself better. How to make smarter decisions. How to ask a certain someone out. He had always been there for her, when her biological parents could not. She'd kept him in line, and vice versa.

 

And now that she was gone? It felt like a huge part of him was missing.

 

A part he'd never be getting back.

 

As the commander rounded the corner, his bloodshot blue eyes rested upon the two. A flash of anger came across them, as they met Lúcio's brown orbs. He'd been with her that day... Why couldn't have he done anything about it? Why couldn't have he taken her place? His Hana was dead now, because of him. If only he hadn't been there, then she wouldn't have had to have taken the shot for him. And Zenyatta! He was on that mission. Couldn't his stupid robot magic save her? Couldn't anyone have done anything to save her?

 

A small sigh escaped him. He knew he had no reason to feel this way. It had happened. It was over. The only thing he had to remember the spunky girl he'd come to care for was a body. The two before him could have done nothing to stop the cruel hand of fate. Jack said no words, just offering a simple nod as he continued on his way.

 

Lúcio didn't blame him. Lúcio didn't blame the look in his eyes, as the old soldier stared him down. The anger behind them just. He'd wronged her, and him, and everyone within the walls of the base. He'd broken his promise to her. His words meaning nothing in the grand scale. She was gone, and he could've prevented it. He could've--

 

A metallic hand rested on his shoulder. Zenyatta's caring presence making itself known to the grieving DJ once more. "He doesn't blame you." Zenyatta said quietly. "He knows he has no right to, because it isn't your fault." Zenyatta had been in all places before. After Mondatta had been murdered, the first one he blamed was Lena. Why wasn't she there earlier? An army of guards and supposedly one of the world's best soldiers with the ability to warp time, and they couldn't take down one measly sniper? Why didn't she die for him? It was absurd, he knew. But there was so much pain... so much anger that even Mondatta hadn't prepared him for.

 

Even when he stopped blaming Lena, there was so much anger left. Anger that threatened to turn into hatred---for Talon, and Widowmaker especially. But vengefulness was a false comfort. He knew even if he killed her, it wouldn't bring back Mondatta. And what comfort could he feel from becoming the same, numb creature that Widowmaker had become?

 

Soon, they arrived back at the DJ's quarters. He opened the door for Lúcio as they arrived. "Lúcio... Please. Get some rest. You will need it."

 

Tomorrow would be the hardest day of his life.


	7. Half

He tossed. He turned. He flipped upside down. The bed, it seemed, was his own personal stage. Every few minutes, he'd try a new position on it, with the same results. He wished to follow Zenyatta's advice. Tomorrow would crush him.

 

How much further he could be crushed wasn't something he knew.

 

As he struggled to find a comfortable spot underneath his covers, he couldn't help but focus on the obvious. The issue that had sent him into such a state of disparity that he could hardly function as a human anymore.

 

He missed her.

 

He missed her laugh. Her smile. The way she'd flip her hair into his face on purpose just to mess with him. The way they could talk for hours. The way her Korean accent rolled right off her tongue, tickling his ears in all the right ways...

 

What he wouldn't give to hear it just one more time. One last time is all he needed. All he wanted to do was wrap her in one last hug, and tell her how much she meant to him. Take in her scent one final time. Pepper her face so full of kisses that she'd feel them all the way into the afterlife...

 

The afterlife. How was she doing now? She was in God's realm. Back with her parents. Back with Yumi, the sister she'd lost in the war. She must be so happy... all the losses she'd endured in life were turned into one giant win in the end. Everyone she'd told him about. Everyone she had wept over. All that turned out alright for her in the end. The thought of Hana with her family once more brought a bitter-sweet smile to his face.

 

He wasn't hurting for her. No, he had no reason to. Hana Song was in a better place now. He could only imagine the reunion she'd have when she got to where she was going. The grand 'Welcome Home' party in the sky must be absolutely killing it.

 

No, he was hurting for himself, because of her. She'd left him behind. Even if it wasn't her choice, having that feeling of emptiness within him is what devastated him the most. The big, gaping hole in his heart felt as though it was going to rip him directly in half.

 

His eyes once again scanned the room, trying to make a distraction for himself. Sleeping --or, at least trying to-- felt pointless at this point. He had a full mind, and an empty stomach. Sleep was hard to come by when both of those were met.

 

Walking along his desk with his eyes, he stopped on the framed photograph once more. He could've sworn it was face down when he left... Zenyatta must've put it back up without his knowing. Even from the distance he was, he could still make out the joy on both of their faces, the duo smiling like mad, both clearly starstruck by one another.

 

Her eyes twinkled the stars at him, almost illuminating the room. The happiness of that day was a direct contrast to the sorrow he now felt.

 

In the photo, Hana held up a half-heart, while Lúcio completed it with a half-heart of his own. Apart, they were pointless. A puzzle with a missing peace. Together? They were whole.

 

Slowly, he outstretched his arm, his half of the heart covering up his half of the frame. It didn't feel right, not having her there to complete it. They'd made a habit of doing it at least once a day. Before a mission, or just when they were hanging out. Over the long periods of time in which they were separated, they'd make a point to video chat, making the full heart at the end. It didn't matter if it there was wind, or snow, or sickness, or health, light or dark. That heart was made at least once. A small sigh escaped him, seeing only the half she held in the picture, and nothing more.

 

"Hana?..." He said, knowing he would get no answer. He didn't expect one whatsoever. He just had one thought she needed to know, if she was listening.

 

"I... I love you..."

 

A moment passed...

 

But in that moment? He swore he felt a warm breeze against his hand.


	8. Today

Today was going to suck.

 

It was the first thought that came to the poor musician's head, as they birds atwitter outside his window arose him from his (thankfully) dreamless slumber.

 

Today was going to suck.

 

Lúcio considered himself a good-hearted person dealt a hard hand in life. He was born into poverty, but he rolled with it. When his country was invaded, he dealt with it. And now that the love of his life was snuffed away from him?

 

All the fight was taken from him.

 

Today was going to suck.

 

For the first time in his life, he debated weather he should even get out of bed today. Perhaps the covers of his own bed could provide a safe haven for him. Protect him from all the terrors that the actual world would hold for him today. Every morning, he'd hop right up and out of bed, eager to start a brand new day with a wide grin upon his face. His cheerfulness was unmatched by anyone on base. His willingness to get up and going was almost a mystery to the rest of the newly reformed Overwatch team. It appeared that whole ideology of 'early bird gets the worm' had been turned on its head. He never wanted to leave the saftey of his bed now.

 

Today was going to suck.

 

Hana was gone. Today, he was going to be forced to accept that. As much as his mind begged and pleaded it not to be the truth, it was. No matter how many excuses he made for her abstances, he knew. He'd seen the body. He had held her in his arms as the light slowly slipped away from her. No one could have helped her, and yet, he felt responsible. Simply for holding her made him feel guilty.

 

Today was going to suck.

 

After a lot of hesitance, he finally hoisted himself up and off of the mattress. It creaked slightly, as his weight was shifted from one side to another. The weight of his sadness was crushing. He had never had such an overwhelming amount of grief and sorrow pushed upon him. He wished for a way to let it out. He hated having to keep all of it boiling up inside of him. The evening past, however, changed nothing.

 

He couldn't cry. He couldn't scream. He couldn't do anything but feel like a worthless hull of the man he once was. His coronas remained dry; his voicebox unused. He still couldn't function properly.

 

If it didn't already, today was going to suck.

 

He was slow to his feet, standing cautiously and with great difficulty. It didn't feel right. If he was still allowed to walk the Earth, why wasn't she? It felt so wrong to stand where she once stood. To think of the smile she had once worn so confidently on her face. 

 

To be the one she she used to love.

 

To be her _oppa._  Her _yabo._ It felt wrong. Sickening. Terrible and terrifying. To think that he used to be the one that she had trusted most. The one she had trusted with everything. Everything including her life...

 

He was an emotional disaster, and by the looks of it? He wasn't getting any better today.

 

Today was going to suck.

 

With a gentle sigh, he managed to sloppily put himself together. A plain black tank-top with a pair of jeans was the apparel he had decided to go with. He didn't even bother with his hair... He didn't care enough to even try anything with it today. Or ever. His prized possession hung in a frizzy, tangled mess that tumbled down his back. But he didn't care. He didn't have the ability to care about himself anymore. He'd lost that along with her.

 

Before heading outwards into the world, he looked back to the framed photograph. With soft eyes, he took it in, slowly reaching to pick it up and grasp it in both hands. His world, it seemed, was much darker without her sparkling brown irises to show him the way through the fog and night that had settled around it.

 

He sighed, replacing the picture. He kept it upright.

 

"... Today's gonna suck..."

 


	9. Nature's Song

The world seemed like nothing but an obstacle to him now. He found doing even the most basic functions absolutely excursiating. Making his way out and into the hallways of the base in itself took a great deal of energy he no longer had. But, he pushed on. If it wasn't for his own sake, he had no idea what he was doing this for. The halls seemed void of color, the clouds sprawling out and over the sky, blocking out the sun. Great. Something to make this  _wonderful_ day even better.

 

Onward he walked, his feet moving in a shuffle. A few other members tried to welcome him back into the world of the living, but he wished for none of it. He wished he could just stay in bed for the remainder of the day. With the warmth of his blanket wrapped around him, and Wil's soft croaking, he could spend an eternity, now that he hadn't a reason to get up and going anymore. He couldn't remember the last time his outlook on life had been this bleak, or if it ever had stopped to such a low as this. He doubted it ever had.

 

Lúcio continued to trudge on, body on autopilot as he thought. It felt as though his chest had been ripped away from him, leaving a gaping hole in place of his soul. Dinging the button of the elevator, he stepped inside of it, decending downwards towards the main floor of the Overwatch base complex.

* * *

 

On sunny days, Lúcio would often sit outside, taking it all in. He'd let the sounds of silence over wash him, listening to natures heartbeat. Be it a bird singing out it's chirpy song, or the soft  _chk, chk, chk_ of beavers down and along the riverbank, Lúcio saw no reason to let this unheard of song go unappreciated. He felt peaceful. He felt as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong, and that the war and hunks of ground they were fighting for hadn't a merit or a reason, or that they never existed at all. To be able to take such a break from life was almost too good to be true. Today was one such day. His head rested against his usual tree, eyes fluttering closed as he let his ears take him on the wild ride that was the summertime of Gibralter. His hands rested comfortably in his lap, as the music of the outside took over him.

 

Suddenly, he heard soft crunches in the grass, making their way over to him. That was no animal-- or, not one he'd ever heard about before -- on a fast track to his current location. Only one type of creature could make such a noise with just their feet...

 

"... What are you doing?"

 

The tone of that voice alone made him unable to stifle the small chuckle that decided to make its way out of him. He'd know it anywhere, for as long as he lived. Slowly, Lúcio opened his eyes, letting the colors come racing into his irises with a speed so quick that he was temporarily blinded. After allowing his eyes to adjust, he drank in the figure of Hana standing right before him. She wore the most confused look he had ever seen on her face.

 

"Just... Listening."

 

"To what?"

 

Another soft laugh came from him, as he moved slightly against the tree to make room for her beneith the large oak. "Everything... C'mon, try it."

 

Hana looked at him as if he were crazy, the look on her face going from confused to border-line questioning his sanity.

 

"I always knew you were crazy,  _oppa_ _..._ But this? This is a new low."

 

She was a little hesitant at first to sit with him, but eventually, she did cave, moving over and sliding up and under the large tree. Her body rested against his for support, head against the tree. It took just a moment before she was completely settled. However, Hana wasn't a patient person. She never was. After that moment had passed, she decided to break the silence that settled between the two of them.

 

"So... What am I listening--?"

 

Her question was cut short by Lúcio's gentle voice hushing her. With a gentle roll of her eyes, she returned to her silence, eyes wandering the soft greens of the base's courtyard. Her eyes picked up on things she hadn't noticed before, her ears being lulled by natures lullaby. The silence washed over her like a gentle wave, the sound of Mother Nature's cooing soft and soothing in the young idol's ears.

 

For the first time in a very long time, Hana felt fully at peach. Her mind no longer clouded by all the stress and expectations. No longer foggy due to hundreds of millions of people looking to her for protection. The soft heartbeat in her ears and the song of nature filling her fuller than she could have ever imagined. The calming sounds of summer did just that. Calmed her soul, and brought her some peace of mind.

 

She wasn't sure of exactly how much time had passed. An hour. Two hours. Time didn't seem to matter to her. She'd spend all of eternity here with him if she could. With the soft wiping of the wind in her hair, and the young man she was leaning against, Hana had never known such a blissful feeling. She could have died right there happy...

 

... And Lúcio just the same. He'd always loved this spot, but sharing it with her? It was even better. Her breath and heartbeat mixing in with the song of nature hit all the right notes with him. She was already a huge crescendo in his life... Why hadn't he brought her out here before? It was obvious that she was enjoying it. He had never seen her so quiet before, unless she was really focused on an objective or something. Having the ability to pass time so easily with her was such a high point to him.

 

Another length of time passed, before Lúcio finally decided to break their silence. 

 

"... You hearin' it now?"

 

Hana took only a moment of hesitance, before nodding to him. "Lúci... I had no idea how... How great this is..."

 

Slowly, Lúcio wrapped an arm around her, a warm grin slowly stretching over his lips. "... Sometimes, what y'gotta do is slow down... Listen when nature's speaking to you. It's the best song you're ever gonna find."

 

Hana happily nodded her agreement, before looking at him with eyes so full of joy he almost melted right there. "We've _gotta_  do this more often!"

 

He loved her enthusiasm, grinning like a complete idiot as he messed with her brown locks. "Oo, you know it!"

 

The oak tree became known as their escape from the rest of the team. Once a week, they'd sneak off to it, just to be alone with each other, and the brilliant song of nature. They had their deepest conversations there. They exposed their thoughts to one another there. But most importantly? They were together there, growing more as a couple, and as friends. Hana wasn't only his girlfriend. No. She was much more than that. She was his best friend. The one he could always rely on, no matter what. She would always be there for him...

* * *

 

She would always be there for him...

 

Before he knew what had happened, or what was going in, he stood outside of her room. The big bold letters that read  **HANA "D.VA" SONG** had been removed from the doorframe, and it was obvious the other members were already hard at work at cleaning out the remains of her remaining Earthly possessions. He stared at the door for a while, debating as what to do. The pressing feeling of sadness lingered over him, and it would only get worse. He was sure of it.

 

He had already relieved all of the memories of her that lingered within the walls of his room... But he ones that would return to him here would be even worse. However, he had a job to do. As much as he didn't want to... As much as he wanted to keep the illusion going, he knew he couldn't. This had to be done, and he had to at least be there when it was.

 

With a heavy sigh, and a heavier heart, he pushed open the door.


	10. Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell that was a heck of a writer's block.

The door creaked open ever gently, as the familiar smell of the room hit his nostrils. That smell was all too familiar to him. It was natural, yet sweetened by some grace from above the heavens. The smell he had associated with Hana all this time. Her scent lingered in the room even after she did not, as if to tease and torture him over the fact that he couldn't experianced it first hand any longer. The scent lingered, whilst the one who carried it did not. His heart, which had suffered almost as much emotional trauma as it could withstand pained even more. While he himself was not ready to accept and move on, it felt as though his mind and soul were already on the downhill slope.

 

"Ah, Lúcio... So glad that we can have you here..."

 

His head turned to the side, eyes meeting with the stained blue-red eyes of Angela Ziegler. Just by the small glance he gave, he knew he wasn't the only one grieving. Everyone was affected in their own ways. On this dingy old base, everyone wa treated as family, and they were damn well going to morn like one.

 

Together.

 

"Hey, Doctor Ziegler." Came his voice, raspy from the little use it had been received. He cleared his throat slightly, only to have the same bile that once inhabit his nose migrate towards his windpipe. "... Yeah... Zen suggested I come to this. Said... Said it may help me out in the long run..."

 

"Ah, yes... Zennyatta does often know what is best for those he speaks to. Certainly." She stated, her dimly-lit eyes scanning across the walls and shelves that had already been placed in the process of tear-down. It was obvious that she was dancing around the enormous elephant in the room, but Lúcio was greatful. If the tears wouldn't come, his body would find another way to release the immense amounts of agonizing stress that would certain ally plague him for years on end. And he wasn't too keen on figuring out just exactly what that might entail.

 

Lúcio's eyes began to wander the room once again, old memories beginning to pop into his mind seemingly out of the blue. Memories that would be joyous in any other situation. Why did he remember so vividly all the times she had fallen asleep against him, letting her controller drop to the floor as her body refused to go on? Or the countless talks they had about this and that, ranging from what exactly lied behind Roadhog's mask, to what their family life was like before the war. Topics ranging from their favorite foods to how they could shape the world, or how they were much too young for such a dangerous lifestyle. The thing that rang true for all of them? She was physically there with him. He could touch her hand... Look into her sparkling brown irises... Listen to her accent...

 

Now, they were nothing but events that happened in the past, never to be repeated again. 

 

It it almost felt wrong to be in here without her, or at least one of her numerous game consoles running off in the background. The absence of the machanical buzz was almost eerie, as in to hammer the point home to him further than it had before. The soft pinks of the room felt foreboding, rather than friendly. The boxes piled with belongings unnatural. A soft sigh escaped him, as his eyes returned to the older woman's face.

 

"Could... Could've you saved her, doc?"

 

His words came fast. Faster than he had anticipated. Faster than he could have imagined. They were so fast, that his mind didn't have time to process what he was saying before the words came from spilling out and across his lips. His reaction to them were similar to hers. Slightly taken aback.

 

"Lúcio..." Began the motherly medic, her icy blue eyes escaping him for just a moment. "There is no need to continue to dwell on what could have been... I... I was nagociating with the United Nations... There--"

 

"But could have you?"

 

A slow sigh came from her, her eyes floating down to the ground. For a moment, the eerie silence returned, aside from the few others in the room that were helping the cleanup effort. The moment felt like an hour, a week, a year. Time no longer could stand still or pass as slowly as it had before. The very frame of the universe felt off.

 

"... If... If I could have been there... I suppose I very well could have... However, her soul... I cannot do anything any longer. She... She's gone. Lúcio, I'm so, so sorry... But I cannot bring her back..."

 

Mercy began to tear up once again, the droplets forming in her eyes. They threatened to fall... Oh, did they threaten... But they remained. Lúcio's eyes stayed dry, dispite his want-- no, his need-- to release his grief. His eyes stayed afixiated to hers, as a small sigh once more escaped him.

 

The very last bit of hope that still remained in him was gone. She wasn't coming back to him.

 

"Thank you, Doctor..." He murmured to her, almost soundlessly, before he began to move. If what Zenyatta said was true, he'd need to help with the effort to feel even a little comfort.

* * *

 

An hour or so passed, as the room was being cleaned. A lot of trash was thrown out, and a lot more memories were remade. He swore he could see her face in everything he moved... Hear her voice in every movement he made... Feel her embrace with every thought he had. Oh, how he longed for it. He longed for it more than he longed to breath. When love is as truthful and compassionate as he had for her, it didn't fade easily. And certainly not over a mere few days.

 

Lena stayed by his side for most of their journey down memory lane. She could sense how emotionally unstable he was... How at any moment he could just break down and be unable to continue. He was greatful for her presence. If she wasn't there, who knows exactly what would have become of him. What world he would've floated off into. She was doing her best to keep him grounded... Though, he didn't know how well she was doing.

 

Suddenly, his train of thought was intercepted by Lena's voice. It was slightly muffled, being as she was under Hana's bed at the time.

 

"Oi! Lúcio! What're these?"

 

His head turned away from Hana's trophies, and to the woman, who held a small, black box within in her hands.

 

His hands reached downwards to her, and she planted the box in his hands. With careful movements, the lid to the box was lifted upwards, revieling exactly what was kept inside. Letters. Pictures. Videographs. It seemed to be a box dedicated to the little things he had gifted her here and there. Goofy little snapshots of him, or the notes to a song he'd written for her a while ago. His hands skimmed over them, gracing along the photographs which she had held near and dear to her heart. Just seeing all this... It made some emotion tense his heart.

 

"I... I can't believe she kept these..." He said quietly. Lena's eyes remained on him, watching him with a small curiosity. She watched as his fingers skimmed the videographs.

 

His eyes remained on the small holographic projectors which held the small bits of code to bring a moment back to life. The small glimpse into the past he oh so needed. Carefully, as if he were holding an ancient artifact, he scooped them into his arms. One by one, he began to play them. Four in total.

 

The first started out with the two setting up a simple prank for Hanzo. They spoke softly to one another, like a group of school children trying not to be caught by their teacher. The voices were soft, but the excitement and utter joy radiating from them was unmistakable. He relieved the day as if it had happened only an hour ago. 

 

The he second was the two of them at their usual spot. The tree outside of the base. On that particular day, Hana had told him that she wanted to capture the moment for once. It was too good of an opritunity to pass up... The song too sweet to not record. And who was he to say no to that face? He could feel the warmth of that summer day once more... The soft feeling of her hair against his neck. The grass on his toes... A small smile cracked the DJ's face, as he relived the bitter-sweet memory.

 

The third was the day they had met. As it opened, the smile grew warmer, as he heard just how excited she sounded. "Ohmygosh! Are you the  _real_ Lúcio?! I've been a fan for such a long time!" Came her almost squealing voice. That day, he knew he had struck a very good friend... And an even better lover. He couldn't help but feel a stir in his chest, being as he'd never experience it again.

 

The fourth and final one... He didn't recognize. It started off a little darker, and his face furrowed in a slight confusion. However, she soon realized exactly why he didn't recognize it. On the holograph, Hana's face was prevalent. Her teeth shown happily, her smile heartwarming. "Hey, whoever found this spthing!" She started off in an excited whisper, as if Hana herself was speaking directly to him. "... My name is Hana Song. I'm a member of Overwatch, and a proffessional gamer." She stated, shifting slightly, the camera shaking slightly in her hand. As she sifted, and laid back down, his own sleeping frame came into focus, her head resting against his bare back. Her hair trickled along him. "I'm so so so excited... I'm literally the luckiest girl in the world... Lúcio... We're do I even start with him?" She asked, her soft voice tinted with sweetness even through the husk of her whisper. "... He's just so... Soooo good!... I can't believe it... Lúcio?... I know you can't hear me right now, but I love you. I.. I couldn't help taking this old thing out and filming you... I love you so so so much..." She spoke to his sleeping frame. It felt, however, as if she were talking directly to him. A beat past, before a soft giggle escaped her. "... This is probably really creepy... I'll delete this later."

 

With that, the video ended. Lucio looked at the empty space in which so many words were just spoken. So many words that meant so much to him. A hush fell over the room, everyone stopping what they were doing to look in his direction.

 

He didn't even notice that he was crying his eyes out until they began splashing the videograph in his hands.


	11. Emotinal Waterfall

The tears. Oh God, the tears. They were hysterical. They were messy as all hell. They were... Normal. All the pent-up emotions that have been oppressed and locked away since her death were finally let out. He kneeled there, replaying the short video over, and over, and over like it's all he could do. He heard her voice. He heard her say those three simple words that never failed to make his heart stop beating for just a moment. She was so close to him on the screen. And yet, he remained dormant; passed out in a wonderful slumber. If he could shake himself awake and alive to watch the beautiful moment he would. He'd shake himself harder than anyone had ever been shaken before. He wanted to reach through and touch her, but he'd have to settle for this; watching her through this tiny screen.

 

The tears continued to cascade down his face like a waterfall of emotion. Joy, grief, self-hate. All of it was made known in the incredulous sobbing that overthrew him. The release he had been hoping so much for had finally come. Although a few days late, the relief that flooded his system seemed to help dull the pain momentarily. 

 

After what must've been his fiftieth replay of the message, he couldn't handle anymore of it. He couldn't bare to see her smiling face looking into that camera as if she had ruled the world at that point. His body trembled; tremors hitting him as if he were in an earthquake. His arms hugged tightly to the device in his hands, bringing it towards his chest and embracing it as if it were actually her. He hugged it as if he had never been hugged-- or hugged-- before. His body was numb, but his heart hammered away. All at once, his body felt warm... and then cool again. His crying picked up tenfold.

 

"Lúcio? Lúcio, luv, are you alright?" Came the tentative voice of Lena. The usually happy-go-lucky Brit was much more somber. She was fighting back the tears that tried to boil over and run amuck. "That... It was beautiful... I-I... Do you wanna talk about it?"

 

Lena's words meant nothing to him. That final line kept bouncing around in his mind, over and over again. 'This is probably really creepy... I'll delete this later.' 'This is probably really creepy... I'll delete this later.'

 

'I'll delete this later.'

 

He clung tighter to the small appliance in his hands. His voice came weak and strained, barely audible through the gushing sobs that came from his chocolate brown irises. "D-Don't... Don't delete this..." He begged softly to no one in particular.

 

Lena tried in vain to choke back the tears again, but they rolled over. She sunk to her knees, arms softly wrapping around her friend. 

 

"No one will, Lúc-Lúcio... I... I swear..."

* * *

Angela had gone elsewhere. She couldn't stand to be in that room; so void of life and with air so still it appeared to never be inhabited at all. Without her in it, it seemed off. Wrong. She felt terrible to be even near it. 

 

Wiping her eyes dry for the fourth time this hour, she looked upwards. She'd have to remain calm. Be a professional about this, even if it was just a talk with him. The man she hadn't even seen until a month ago. The man who made his way back into her life despite being thought dead by everyone else. Her eyes scanned the nametags.

 

**JACK MORRISON**

 

The name she itself brought back so many memories. She stood outside the door. It was already a crack open, but knocking felt like the polite thing to do. Gently and tenitavely, she knocked upon it.

 

"... Jack?"

 

The softness of her voice surprised even herself. The waver of it hit her, too. Just how self aware could one woman get?

 

"... Come in." A voice volleyed back. It was unmistakably that of Jack Morrison... however skewered it may be by reluctant tears and horrible thoughts brought about by the death of one he considered to be a parent to. 

 

With silent courage, Angela obliged, entering the former Strike Commander's office. For a moment, she stood there, unable to even look in his general direction. Too distraught and too emotional to look at him or to think of anything. Her legs quaked benieth her, anxiety and pain growing by the second. She inhaled shakily, and then exhaled.

 

"I... What... What are we to do about the funeral?"


	12. One Last Question

A tornado of emotions brewed by in Jack's icy blue eyes. The question she posed wasn't an easy one for him to answer... Not by a long shot. What  _do_ you do with the corpse of a young prodigy? When he saw Hana, he saw pure potential. When he saw her, he saw a young woman who could help bring about the establishment of peace, no matter what you looked like or were made from. Someone who could bring all of this conflict to a grinding halt. He took pride in her accomplishments, and relished in the defeats she had along the way. Every step of the way, he was right there alongside her. 

 

Just like the father she never fully got to experiance.

 

His heart churned harshly in his chest, but his outward appearance didn't show it. That pain... It wasn't one he had experienced in a long time. He was used to physical pain at this point. A bullet wound or a snare around his feet no longer fazed him. He'd had a bomb blow up in his face, and only had a nasty scar to show for it. But this pain... This searing affliction that burnt a hole right through his chest was almost too much to bare. The wound certainly wouldn't be patched anytime soon, and definitely not by words alone. Deep down, Jack knew that without her to fill in that spot, the gaping ailment would always be there. Time might be able to lessen the effect it had on him, but it wouldn't ever fill disappear. 

 

His fingers kept busy by spinning a pencil. He found that it was easier to null the effects on his heart if he had something to focus on. But Angela's words brought the aggravation right back. Her question, it seemed, burned him back down to reality, and off of whatever cloud of self indulgence he had been put upon.

 

"I..." He started off, but he had no real answer. What did they do? Private or public? Hana had millions upon millions of people mourning her death... But did he wish for thousands of strangers to be at the burial?

 

What kind of burial did they give her? They couldn't give her a traditional American-ized funeral... It wouldn't have been what she wanted. He'd have to research into Korean burial processions... All sorts of new doors were opened. A huge can of worms that couldn't be recontained.

 

"I don't have an answer, Angela." Jack admitted, his fingers continuing to twirl the little wooden pencil in his hand. He refused to look away from it, his entire focus glued to it.

 

* * *

Angela's face fastened a frown, her gut like lead and her will like butter. His words weren't exactly the kind she would be looking for... But she understood. The question she asked wasn't exactly an easy one to answer. She knew there was a lot that went into planning a funeral, purely due to first hand experience.

 

"... Of... Of course." She spoke quietly, hesitantly taking a seat in one of the office chairs he had across the desk. Her hands folded over one another, and then back the other way. Angela had been through loss before... And resented it with every being of her bones. She tried her absolute hardest to escape it... But it always felt inevitable. Her parents... Switzerland... Hana... It felt as if her life was crumpling all around her, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to control any of it. The more she tried to perfect her nano-technologies, the less it mattered. The cruel hand of fate took no prisoners. Unfortunately, Hana seemed to be right in its way.

 

Her heart beat an uneven rhythm. Hana had meant the world to her, and without her? She no longer felt whole... But just judging by Jack and Lúcio, she wasn't the only one. Everyone was hurt and grieving in their own ways. 

 

Hesitantly, she reached out to him. 

 

"Jack--" She started. "--We... We have to do this. We've got to put her to her final resting place... She deserves this, if nothing else..."

__

* * *

 

Replay. Replay. Replay. Over and over he played the holodisc. Just to see her eyes sparkle like that, to notice all of the little things again, he would replay that message until he, too, joined her in death. That, or the battery died. Either way, it wasn't going to be a pleasant goodbye. He clung tightly to it, holding it as if it were his world.

 

Lena sat not far behind him, propped up in her knees to peer over his shoulder. At this rate, she'd have every single movement Hana made that fateful morning memorized and choreographed in no time flat. But as long as it helped Lúcio? She'd stay here with with him until the end of time.

 

Suddenly, Lúcio rose to his feet, his breath shallow, and body quivering. Tears continually spewed from his eye sockets, dripping down his cheeks and chin and onto his shirt. A few formed a small puddle on the ground. 

 

Lena looked upwards at him ins pseudo-confusion. "Lúcio?" She asked, her eyes hinting upwards to meet his for the briefest of moments. The Brit wiped away a few of the droplets that had forced their way out. "... Where... Where are--?"

 

Her question was cut off, as Lúcio snatched the box holding the rest of the holodiscs.

 

"I've.. I should go..." He choked out through the emotion. His throats and nose burned. 

 

He was inspired once again.


	13. I miss you, Hana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The overdue continuance to the Bunnyribbit fic nobody wanted! Hooray!

Lúcio's legs dangled off the edge of the roof. He felt as the wind calmly ruffled through his dreadlocks, the sweet smell of something he couldn't even come to recognize hitting his nostrils. Up here, under the temprate midday sun, he felt something once again. Looking outward, he could see for miles. His eyes ran along the horizon, tiptoed through the rushing waters of a nearby stream, and danced through the forest. It lingered longingly on a certain tree... The tall oak standing not but a few hundred yards off the Overwatch facility grounds felt almost surreal from up here. The tree held so many memories. He was convinced if he were just to go down there now, he'd see her sitting there. She'd ask him what took so long. They'd be together again.

 

Together again.

 

The weight of the old guitar wasn't much in his lap. It wasn't anything special; just a relic of a time past that survived to the modern age he now lived in. The ragged old acoustic instrument had seen and been through it all with him. From high points and low points. From the invasion of Vishkar, to his very first show. Granted, it never got it's chance to shine up there on stage- much too outclassed by his green energy turntables- but still supported him from afar, offering good luck and good spirits to the well-mannered DJ. The strings still felt the same as they did the day his papá surprised him with it. Sure, it had definitely seen better days, but the same was true for the musician who played it. It appeared that both of their best days were behind them... But together, maybe they could become almost whole again.

 

He gave the instrument a warning stum, and it obediently played the notes. All six strings called out as his pice graced past them, the vibration crying out to anyone nearby. In crisis, he found comfort in music. It was his passion, after all. But with a crisis like this, it was a little more difficult to come to grips with what he was up against. Even the music did little to dull the pain. The tears were one step on the long, rocky road to absolution, and seeing them finally decide to spring up did much to help him. His body had refused to believe it. She couldn't possibly be gone. Vanish. Cease to exist. But it had all happened so fast. One shot, and the life of the most important person in his entire life was ended. The life of the one person he could never live without was gone. And he was left behind to pick up the shattered pieces of his destroyed heart.

 

Reaching to the side, he lifted the holodisk to him again. As the button was pressed, the video sprang to life once again. The cheerful Hana was still excitedly whispering about how much she loved him, and how much he meant to her. All of this, wrapped with the implication that she was going to delete this at a later date. To think that she might've actually gone through with the threat seemed to be a sin. To think, one of the last ways he could ever hear her voice again, or see the glimmer in her eyes as she shot sneaky looks his direction could've been just as gone as she was made his heart churn in a way he couldn't physically explain. The video came to an end the same way it had the hundreds of times he must've watched it already. 

 

_"This is probably really creepy..._

 

_... I'll delete this later."_

 

The world, it seemed, worked in mysterious ways. She never did delete it. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was someone up above looking out for the broken soul left behind. Maybe it was something more. The only thing he knew, however, is that she hadn't erased it. Her proclamation of her affection was something he could still hear everyday. 

 

As as it ended, a deep sigh came from him, his eyes looking down to the grass below. Already, he was daring the forces to take him with her. He sat twelve stories up, his legs and feet dangling over the pathway to the beyond. But he had no intention to go. Too much heartbreak already, and he couldn't do that to his friends. People needed him. Once more, he checked the guitar, and received the same reaction from the strings. Right. He came here with a purpose. Carefully, he moved the holodisk to the black box on his right, carefully placing it among the other memories. He would cherish every single one of them every day he had left. He was already touched beyond belief to know she kept any of them in the first place.

 

A warm breeze tickled past his neck, the stark difference making the hairs on it stand up. The sweet aroma seemed to grow with it. 

 

He wasn't alone as he thought he was.

 

The heavy-hearted DJ forced a smile to come, as he slowly looked upwards, simply enjoying the feeling. "Heh. Can't even leave me alone now, can you, D?" He said to nothing.

 

As expected, there was no response in return. The warmth of the wind remained as constant as it had been before his words.

 

"That's fine in my books. I was just here... Thinkin', y'know?... About you. About me. About what could've been..."

 

No response. Not even a single bird chirped, nor did any cars hover by. It was almost eerily silent for a day as lively as today.

 

Another sigh seeped past him, eyes falling to the strings that laced the instrument in his lap. "I don't know if right here's the best spot for me to be sitting. Angela would have a cow if she knew. But... I like it here. I can see for miles. I can take in all the beauty I want from up here. Listen to the song of nature, y'know?... Like we always used to."

 

Nothing. His words were met by nothing.

 

At this point, his eyes simply fluttered to a close. There wasn't any use taking in the beauty. As his words were met by wave after wave of absolute silence, he, too, found the solace to keep his mouth shut for a moment.  _What's the point?,_ he thought to himself,  _It's not like your words are going to make her come back. Nothing you say will be met by anything but the crippling loneliness._

 

_She needs to know._

 

The rationality of his own mind almos shocked him. The voice hardly sounded like it belonged to him, instead a much more booming, overcoming voice rocketing and ricochetting around his mind like rubber. He took in a shaky breath, the tears that had only recently returned to him stinging his eye ducts once more.  _She needs to know. She needs to know._

 

_Let her know._

 

He didn't need to be told twice. A lump formed in his throat, making the words difficult to force... But still, he managed. _  
_

"Hana-" he started. "I... I miss you. You don't believe how unbelievably much I miss you. I miss the sound of your laugh, and the feeling of your hair on my neck. I miss all the lazy days we spent just... Together. We were never not together, y'know? Even when I was working on my career, or you on yours, you always made it a point to show me just how far your love went. All the times you came into my studio and demanded that you sit in my lap, or just, like, attacked me on the couch... I miss it. I miss that dorky, adorable grin you gave me every time I came home safe and sound from a mission, or that cocky, 'I-told-you-so' smile you had every time a mission went right. I miss the feeling of your arms around my waist, and the sleepy mumbling you always gave me in the morning. I miss it so, so much..."

 

The tears were back, and streaming down his face at full force. The same tears that were so hard to come by in the past were here, and here to stay.

 

"I miss it, Hana... I miss you..."

 

For a moment, the words failed him. His crying overcame all thought. The grief washed everything else out of his mind, his heart choaking him to death with just how empty it was. No one could ever fix it, and he was certain of that. Time could only do so much... But having the shining star of your life ripped away from you in under a minute left scars too big to mend.

 

"Please, Hana... Please come back." He begged, looking skyward once again. For a day. An hour. A minute. I'll give you anything. My career, my youth... I'll take your place, just please, please come back... I-I miss you. I miss you so, so much, just please. Let me say goodbye if nothing more..."

 

His pleas went silent, and were answered as such. Nothing.

 

A moment passed, as the grief wailed against his body. No answer. No matter how much he bargained, she wasn't coming back. She was gone for good.

 

The weight of his guitar became known to him once more. He almost forgot the instrument was still with him. He swallowed, the sting it left in his throat too much. The sweet scent and the warm air didn't do anything to help him now.

 

"... Right... The-the show. Don't worry, Hana... I'll sing for you. Just... Let me ride this one out..." He said, his voice low and shaky as he tried desperately to fight the tears away.

 

It proved harder to stop the tears than it did to start them.

* * *

 

Lúcio's sudden exit from Hana's room earlier gave Lena a lot of food for thought. She was hurt badly by the loss of her friend, no doubt, but she couldn't imagine what it must feel like to be him right now. The light of his life... Snuffed. She would definetly hold Emily a little tighter from now on, knowing just how quickly a life could end in her line of work.

 

Speaking of which...

 

_Ring... Ring... Ring... Clnk!_

 

"... Hello?"

 

"Hey, Emily..." Lena started, rubbing shyly at the backside of her neck. "I just... I've just been thinking. I'm calling to say I love you..."


	14. A broken soul, a broken man

And then, it was done.

 

The guitar came slowly to a stop, the vibrating strings taking their own sweet time to cease the noise they created. If he wouldn't have known any better, he might've thought his old guitar was trying to buy him time away from the absolute silence that would follow his show. It almost made him laugh, the thought. How absurd. 

 

However, all good things must come to an end. Lúcio's fingers moved to quiet the moving strings, as gently as a mother with a newborn would have. Again, his ears were filled with the sound of nothingness, and his eyes- closed, to take everything in- received just the same.

 

Nothing.

 

No response.

 

No praise for his singing.

 

Nothing.

 

The day was as still as his heart, the aura as gloomy as his mind. It was both a blessing and a curse that everything reminded of her. How even the softest ruffle of the trees or the smallest sound of an animal would make his mind spring towards a time or place when he was with her. When he could physically touch her, or hear the noises she would make. 

 

Unfortunately, all he had of her were those memories. No more would be made. Nothing further would come along to further their faithfulness for each other. They wouldn't ever take each other on that eventful walk down the isle that they had brought up from time to time. There would  _be_ no Hana Song-dos Santos. Only a 21 gun salute, and a gravestone that gravely read her name. One that would show the young soldier's date of death. One the people around him would eventually forget, proving only to be a grave reminder of what could have been. What joy they could have made and gave to the world together. 

 

Only when he felt a hand on his shoulder did the young man realize he was choking on his sobs, the overwhelming feeling of grief washing over him like a dark cloud. A cloud that would never leave him.

 

He flinched. For a moment, he believed she had returned... That if he turned around right now his eyes would be met with hers. She'd hold him just like she usually did when he was upset, or hurt.

 

It only took a moment before reality reared its ugly head again, in the form of a deep, Japanese accent.

 

"Come now, Lúcio. Walk with me." 

 

Turning his head back, his eyes met the cool grey eyes of Hanzo Shimada, the older man offering him his hand.

 

Lúcio was hesitant at first. His body shook against his will, like a leaf caught in a widndstorm. However, tentatively, his shuttering arm reached upwards to him, fingers curling to assist him to his feet.

 

"H-Hanzo... I-I-"

 

Hanzo rose his hand to stop the DJ's speech. "... I... Understand, what it is that you are going through. Please, come accompany me." He implored, gesturing back inside the base.

 

Lúcio did not refute his request, slowly and shakily walking in through the door to the roof.

 

The sweet-smelling wind had gone, as he rentered the quarters. The same, familiar air was present. He despised it now, in comparison to the sweet scent of the air before.

 

Hanzo followed behind Lúcio, before moving to his side. Within a few moments of silence, Hanzo began to speak, his eyes hardly ever meeting Lúcio's.

 

"Grief... Is like an animal." Hanzo muttered, his tone soft, and low. Comforting, to the best of his ability. "Grief is a grizzly bear. It knocks you off your feet... And if you fight back, it will strike across the chest. Grief is a wolf, that stands upon our throat as it devours our heart. It is a stellar jay, which scolds our every move... Scolds what we did, and did not do to keep our loved one's alive. It's a coyote, that nips at the back of our legs when we do not give it our best efforts... It reminds us to play when all we wish to do is cry."

 

Throughout his words, Lúcio listened. His ears were toned on him, eyes shying away from the archer. If anyone were to know grief, it would be him. He and Hanzo didn't speak much... But he was touched that the Japanese man would go the distance to try and relieve some of the pain he felt. Though, he wasn't sure what he was getting at just yet.

 

"Grief... It is a mineral. At first, iron. Hard. Sturdy. You may hit it with a hammer as much as you wish, but it will not melt, nor change shape. Our loved ones will still remain dead." Lúcio cringed at the mention of death, as if the word in and of itself physically hurt him to hear. "It stays in your heart, making you feel as though life itself weighs more on your body. Grief is a crucible that burns away all distraction... Leaves us at our elemental core..."

 

Lúcio took a deep inhale, the weight of both the box in his hands and the guitar on his back becoming known to him. Everything was so... Heavy. Watered down. Bleak. 

 

"... Most importantly, grief is change. You must adapt, Lúcio... I know you, and I am aware of what you can accomplish. You are a strong man. A man who has devoted his entire life to helping those in need. Losing Hana... Is terrible, I know. We all know, and all of our hearts go to you. While our consolations cannot make up for it... You can. Lúcio...

 

... I don't want you to spend the prime of your life as I spent mine. If you do not adapt, you end up as I did. Death, unfortunately, is par for the course in a occupation like this..."

 

"Hanzo..." Lúcio interrupted, almost a plead to his shaky voice. "Y-You don't u-understand... Your brother... He isn't dead. Genji's still alive. Still breathing. Hana... S-... She's never coming back..."

 

Hanzo's gaze befell the sudden interruption. His voice came lower, his voice tinged with the slightest hint of sadness. "... I do know. Genji may not be dead... But I believed for many years that he was, and that I was responsible for his murder. My father... He, too, had passed when I was only a teenager. Unfit to run the clan myself. Lúcio, my friend, I believe I do understand exactly what it is you are feeling."

 

Lúcio sighed deeply again, his flimsy excuse getting him absolutely nowhere. A frown was settling over his face.

 

Suddenly, Hanzo stopped, the archer's head tilting upwards to the door before him. A small, satisfied sound of satisfaction escaped him, his hand reaching for the door.

 

His eyes came to meet Lúcio, pushing open the door that led to the kitchen.

 

"Please, join me for some tea... I assure you, it will help to calm you."

 

Once more, Lúcio did not deny Hanzo, slowly trudging his way inside.


	15. Recollection

The unlikely duo entered the kitchen, a feint smell of meals past coming to collect in their nostrils. The small smell was pleasing... The scent a distinct shift to the stuffy air of the base. No one was inside besides them, all the other heroes off to their daily duties. A part of him was surprised that he hadn't received an angry- or, at least upset- notification from Winston on all the training and excersize he'd missed in the past few weeks. He was definitely in no mood, or shape for that matter, to return to active duty. He's had to have lost at least five pounds due to his lack of food or excersize. His muscular definition was beginning to fade, leaving the lonely DJ nothing more than a shell of his usual self.

 

It took Hanzo mere moments to get the water for the tea bubbling. Satisfied with his work, Hanzo began to search around the kitchen for the tea bags themselves. Aside from the shuffling sound from the archer, or the fire upon the kettle, the kitchen remained silent. No conversation was held between them. No idle song was hummed by Lúcio. Everything remained silent, as the world had been for the longest time, it felt.

 

Then, Hanzo did something that shocked him. He broke the silence with his voice. The silence that felt like it weighed a literal ton.

 

"How did you know, Lúcio?"

 

Lúcio's darkened eyes came upwards to follow Hanzo, as he moved to sit next to him on the island table. 

 

"... How did I know... What?"

 

"How did you know you were in love?"

 

Ouch. That certainly wasn't a question he was ready for. His heart churned painfully in his chest, a sound of discomfort escaping the younger man.

 

"H-Hanzo... Please... I-I don't want to..."

 

"Lúcio." Hanzo said, his voice pointed, with a level of care only he seemed to manage. "... You cannot keep skidding around the issue. You must reflect upon what has happened... Who has left your life. If you do not, you will never come to terms with your loss. You will turn to something more powerful to escape the pain. Drugs. Alcohol. Addicting things that would not fill the pit you feel inside you. Believe me. I've been down those roads."

 

Lúcio's eyes came to meet Hanzo's for the first time in what felt like ages. There was a subtle confusion to his eyes that Hanzo must have picked up on. He wasted no time in explaining.

 

His fingers tapped against is flask. "Sake and opioids seemed to become my best friends, besides the murder of those who displeased me. The murder of my brother began the darkest six years of my entire life... Six years I'm still recovering from. So please, Lúcio. Let us begin the road to recovery early. Do not waste your life as I did. So again, I inquire... How did you know you were in love?"

 

Lúcio digested the words Hanzo had spoken. This man really was looking out for him, and his best interests. His fingers tapped lightly against the countertop, his eyes coming down to follow them. 

 

"I... Didn't." He started, his fingers remaining in a rhythm he didn't even need to think about. "She was my best friend for as long as I could remember, Hanzo... And even before then, I'd watch her streams when I was home in Brazil. I caught as many as I could..."

 

Hanzo took note of the DJ's words and tone of voice. Reflecting upon him, he could see much of the sadness in him that had once consumed himself. He nodded along with the words he spoke, despite the concept of love being almost completely foreign to him.

 

"We were inseparable from the start, we were. We were never not together, y'know? Unless I was on tour... Or... or Hana was streaming or at a tournament, we were always with one another. We... We'd laugh about the stupidest things together, or... Or just help one another when we were down an' upset and stuff... It... It just kinda happened, y'know? When... When we started dating, it felt like nothing had changed. As if we were just hanging out..."

 

Hanzo nodded along with the DJ's words. "Love... Is a funny thing. It is kindled over time, but takes just a moment to snuff out. You must keep that love kindled, Lúcio. Do not forget her. While Hana may not be with us any longer, you can still keep her alive." Hanzo reached across, his fingers gracing gently over his chest. "... In here. Do you understand?"

 

A hesitation came from him, before he nodded. "I... I think I do."

 

Hanzo smiled, his hand returning to the smooth table. "Good. Sometimes that's the best you can do."

 

A loud whistling from the tea kettle stole the floor, both heads turning to gaze upon it.

* * *

 

Jack Morrison's state was not improving. This was a day he hoped he'd never have to come across. He was an old man, damn it. He shouldn't have to be arranging a funeral for a woman a third his age. But here he was. Crunching the numbers for what it would cost, and looking for a date where they could lay Hana down for the final time.

 

Jack's hands went to his silver hair, tugging lightly with a deep, slow sigh. He knew it was an awful idea to get so attached to someone in a life like this. First Ana, Gabriel and Angela, and now Hana... But the kicker here was that Hana wasn't coming back as the others had. She was dead.

 

Dead.

 

Never to return.

 

His hands fumbled around the desk, grabbing for his water, and taking a large drink of it. He shouldn't be secluding himself like this. He'd remember way back in the day that they'd mourn for their fallen comrade together... Help null the pain ever so slightly as a group, instead of taking on this reality by theirselves. Jack was torn in half, however... The grief in his soul taking him and twisting him in ways he shouldn't be twisted. He'd practically pushed everyone away... Made himself a cool, icy fortress of solitude that no one was allowed into. In privacy, he'd mourn. He'd sob and weep until he had no more tears. The daughter he never had was gone. Slain in battle like a pig at the slaughter house. What kind of messed up world that they lived in, where the youth where handed over into a war like this.

 

It was getting late. Or, it felt really late. He really aught to go to bed, and sleep this one off. No matter how distressed he was, his job never slept. Though, one thing did come from tonight's number crunching.

 

He'd gotten a date for her funeral.

 

April 18th. 

 

Five days before her 20th birthday.

* * *

 

Lúcio swirled the warm liquid around in his hands, watching the green tea flow freely in the cup. He wasn't thirsty... He couldn't bring himself to drink this. He sighed deeply, letting the mug clink softly against the countertop.

 

Hanzo picked up on his mood.

 

"Lúcio, may I get you anything to eat?"

 

"... No..." Came his response. "... I'm good. Promise."

 

Hanzo let out a little tut. "Please, Lúcio, do not starve yourself. You already look like you've lost weight... The last thing we would like to see is our favorite DJ to parish to nothingness."

 

Lúcio's head dipped downwards. Maybe he was a little hungry...


	16. It never gets easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd really written myself into a corner. Apologies for the long wait in upload.

The void Hana's passing created was evident. Too evident. Too much to even begin to try and ignore. Many a sleepless night passed in the upcoming weeks for Lúcio, allowing him to spiral further and further down the trail of sadness. This newfound depression in him made it hard to do anything with the spunk and vigor that he usually would... But, he had a job to do. An important job that couldn't be done by anyone else.

 

Every morning, he was forced to put on a mask. A facade. A face that told everyone on the outside that he was doing alright, where on the inside he was dying. He wouldn't be surprised if he  _had_ died on the inside, and this was his eternal damnation. A life of pain. A life where he lived in agony but wasn't allowed to show anyone else what kind of pain he was truly in. He awoke, and went right back to the same shit as the day before. All with that fake, plastered-on million-dollar-smile that he was so well known for. 

 

It it wasn't the same. The things he did gave him no more joy anymore. In fact, any joy was hard to come by. Teammates and comrades would ask how he was, and he'd be obliged to give them the 'I'm just fine' smile and lie right to their faces. Never in his life had he hit a low as low as this one. Not when his home was attacked by Vishkar, or his grandmother Cecíl had died. Forced to labor or arrested by those who'd promised to make his country great again. A low this low felt unattainable.

 

He'd lost before. He'd lost hard before. In fact, his life had, for a while, felt like it had been nothing  _but_ a series of losses. But still, he kept that cheerful, upbeat motive that he always had. Friends dying around him in the revolution? They could do it! Nearly losing the payload on one of their numerous missions? It could be worse! He always tried to look at the brighter side of life, but the most important thing he'd learned from losing as much as he did? It never got easier.

 

It never did.

 

That's why, when the Saturday of April 18th rolled around, Lúcio felt as if he were about to vomit.

 

Unfortunatly, the sun had arisin in the sky as it had every other day before it. It shone as vibrantly and heroically as ever... And Lúcio found himself hating it. Cursing it for existing and bringing him back to the world of the living. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night... Dreading the day as it came upon him. And yet, here he was.

 

Lying in bed. 6 A.M. Already hating the day that had just begun.

* * *

 

As far as his eyes could see, Jack Morrison saw people dressed in black. From suits to dresses to slacks, the darkness in his soul seemed to have embodied itself onto the bodies of those around him. The color draped everyone he saw in its emptiness... An emptiness he felt at all times and saw very clearly at night. A color that envoked a feeling. A feeling that wasn't pleasant, no matter how strong you were or how much you thought you could take.

 

The press was there. Of course they would be. Why the fuck wouldn't they be? Who cared if a national, no,  _international_ hero was being given the final rest she so deserved? No, it didn't matter. There was money to be made here, and none of them were going to give up the chance to get the exclusive article that would sky rocket them to the top of the most read chart. This woman had died for their rights to be here, and they were shitting all over her memory... But Jack remained quiet. Not a single tear dropped from his eye as long as he didn't make any noise, so he sat. Sandwiched between a bawling Reinhardt Wilhelm and a wooden church pew, Jack Morrison managed to keep his stonic persona and watch the procession in peace. There was a kind of peace that came with this. Knowing that Hana was finally reaching eternal rest and redemption from the pain the world had caused her made a calm pass over Jack's greiving soul.

 

He managed a sniffle, pushing the tears further back inside of him. He was sure they'd come out later... But now, he'd keep his composure. For her, if nothing else. She'd seen him as a father figure and mentor, and often reminded him of this. Despite how gruff and dismissive he was of her claims, he was secretly fond of them. There was a reason he had kept her around and taught her the things he had instead of out right pushing her off. He loved her, in the way a father would love a daughter... And so, the least he could do for her was to allow himself the grieve silently. 

 

It felt, in that moment, as if a sweet scent had filled his nostrils.

 

The organ played... Bringing him to times of mourning past. He, as Strike Commander, had attended his fair share of funerals in his life time... And one thing was for sure.

 

They never got any easier.

* * *

An hour had past, before it was time for them to say their final goodbyes. To lay the body of Hana Song down with their best wishes and happiest memories. All in attendance missed her. Some for knowing her personally; others, just for her online persona... But the world would definitely feel her absence.

 

The place was crawling with press. So much so that it made Jack's skin crawl with dull fury. He swore, if any of them were live streaming or recording any of this, he would personally hunt them down and make them pay for it. A good part of him hoped that they knew their manners, and their place at this funeral. 

 

Gently, Jack rose to his feet. The coffin was, as stated by her last will, part of his responsibility to help lift. Exiting the pew he had been occupying, he headed to the isle, looking down to see the wooden casket draped in white. It was enough to make his stomach churn, knowing that just below it sat the body of someone he loved so deeply. Ushering a sigh, he started out.

 

His foot crunched, and, looking down, he saw just what had caused it. Some reporter had left behind a notebook, detailing some of the ideas they had for naming the article they would write about this. Slowly, he bent to pick it up, blinking at the one suggestion that wasn't crossed out.

 

_**Where was World Famous DJ Lúcio at Internet Celebrity D.Va's funeral?** _

__

* * *

 

He couldn't do it. He couldn't force himself to do it. As much as he wanted to, and wished he could, he simply couldn't. Lúcio couldn't go to her funeral. He hated and loathed the fact that he couldn't... Calling himself a coward. A failure. The worst. Everything he could think of... But still, he couldn't do it. Again, he couldn't hardly bring himself to cry either. 

 

Idly, he picked at the grass. His fingers would twine with the green blades before plucking the strands from the ground. Again and again he would do this, eyes shut and head back. A hatred fueled him. He hated himself. He hated how she was gone. He hated how nice the weather was today. A bird chirped overhead, and he wanted nothing more than for it to stop. He was hurt. Deeply. 

 

It never got any easier.

 

"Please..." He begged to no one in particular. "Please don't hate me, okay?... You... You know I love you... I love you with everything I got, but I... I just couldn't. I can't, okay? I'm... I'm weak. Hana, please... I couldn't go to your funeral... Please, forgive me..."

 

His begging got no response. Not even the birds in the sky or the bugs in the grass chirped anything in acknowledgement to him. Just the terrible, terrible silence seeping into his ears. Softly, he began to break down again, tears streaming from his eyes like water from a faucet. His heart... His soul... His life, it seemed, had torn in half. 

 

All alone, he sat, weeping under the tree they had shared many an afternoon together. The one place where everything could be the same. The one place that was their constant.

 

After a few minutes of sobbing alone, he could swear he felt someone stroke his cheek. A warmth was at his side... But when he opened his eyes?

 

Nothing.

 

A sigh came from him, as he let his back fall back against the tree. Maybe he was just losing himself... Maybe the grief had drilled a hole into his mind and forced him to believe she was still here... Still somewhere. Maybe it was the memories the tree had... But the fact still stood.

 

It never did get any easier.

**Author's Note:**

> Took a lot of inspiration from the Bunnyribbit-OW Tumblr page, check it out!
> 
>  
> 
> Please, don't be shy to tell me what you think!


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